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Archive for November, 2000

|| November 10, 2000 || 6:01 pm || Comments (0) ||

Possibly some of you know that I am a fan of The Misanthropic Bitch.

While I don’t agree with all that she says, there is some great stuff there. Go ye forth; ponder, and laugh.

|| November 10, 2000 || 10:16 am || Comments (0) ||

I’ve gotta finish setting up my system so that I can play with this.

|| November 9, 2000 || 11:39 pm || Comments (0) ||

I think I’ve reached that point / Where giving up and going on / Are both the same dead end to me / Are both the same old song

I think I’ve reached that point / Where every wish has come true / And tired disguised oblivion / Is everything I do

Please stop loving me / Please stop loving me / I am none of these things

I think I’ve reached that point / Where all the things you have to say / And hopes for something more from me / Are just games to pass the time away

Please stop loving me / Please stop loving me / I am none of these things

I think I’ve reached that point / Where every word that you write / Of every blood dark sea / And every soul black night / And every dream you dream me in / And every perfect free from sin / And burning eyes / And hearts on fire / Are just the same old song

Please stop loving me / Please stop loving me / I am none of these things / I am none of these things

I am none of these things

/// the cure, “end”

|| November 9, 2000 || 3:29 pm || Comments (0) ||

I think that all is fixed.


And I have a sneaking suspicion that perhaps Geocities is about to unveil a blogger-type plugin for its’ residents and that is where the fuckup lies in this whole deal.

DAMN, I hate when a good thing is fucked with.

DAMN, I love a good conspiracy theory.

DAMN, I wish my html sk1llz were formidable and I had a server to park a domain on. Then perhaps I would take my floaties off and jump right the fuck on in.


The only drawback to having an exceptionally angry day is that now I have an exceptionally large headache-thing (this never happened when I was younger, but perhaps that’s because I pounded on my little sister or one of the neighborhood boys to let off some steam). But not to worry; It goes nicely with my lavender pumps and my raw-to-the-core nerves. Can you hear them jangling away? Is it a tune you might be able to dance to? You know me, happy to accomodate.

All outta beer and sausages, though.

On the lighter side of the day, My Charming and Gorgeous Girl Offspring was piddling her way through a plate of Mom’s Best Made-Entirely-From-Scratch Spaghetti (pizgeddy) when the following exchange occurred:
“Hey, momma…”
“Yes, my punkin, what is it?”
“I need somethin’ here.” *gestures grandly at her plate with her fork*
/// Meanwhile, the boys are making monkey noises at one another and feeding each other a piece of garlic bread ///
“I need some of that FarmerJohn cheese.”
My eybrows go up and my eyes sorta get squinty at this juncture. I am trying HARD to comprehend.
“You know, that kind that comes in the little shakin’ thingy….FarmerJohn cheese.”
I nearly bite through my lip while trying to suppress the laughter.

If any of you is stopping by the store tonight, couldja please pick us up some FarmerJohn cheese? We are slap OUT.

|| November 8, 2000 || 6:10 pm || Comments (0) ||

And the horrorscrape for today sayeth:

The Moon has entered your solar first house, making this an ideal day to get in touch with your feelings. If there are emotional issues you have been avoiding, confront them now. This will help you get over your fears and formulate exciting plans for the future. Otherwise, you will be doomed to continual re-enact the same old dramas.

I have no issues. I don’t even have a subscription. Fear?? What the hell is THAT? Light some more incense, oh kooky astrologer-person, you are a bit off-center today.

|| November 8, 2000 || 1:26 am || Comments (0) ||

I’m gonna send a postcard to Sam Rockwell in care of his agency and the only thing I’m gonna write on it is the addy to this blog and the date 9/22/00 on it. I’m gonna DO IT. Think he’ll pop in??

Think if he did that he would e-mail me? Think that if I responded to his e-mail with an invitation to be a guest blogger on here that he’d take me up on it? He could be totally anonymous to the world, blogging away under a nick like ‘Brewster Chisholm” or “Phil Holloway” or “Grady Lord”.

It’d be our secret.

It’d be such a turn-ON. Makes my nether-regions simply glow with the thought of it.